


Surrender

by Melina



Series: Nine of Cups [3]
Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Absolutely Not Bundling, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Christ Marcus Tell Me You Read These Tags, Dominance, Dominant/Submissive, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Maledom/Femsub, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melina/pseuds/Melina
Summary: He bent his head and spoke very quietly into Diana's ear.  Matthew's words made her skin flush with heat and desire curl low in her belly, yet at the same time, a shiver of apprehension slid down her spine.
Relationships: Diana Bishop/Matthew Clairmont
Series: Nine of Cups [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538419
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit more intense than previous stories in this series. Please read responsibly.
> 
> [Cassandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandra) and [Devo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devo) provided more help developing and editing this story than I can adequately express. [hafital](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital) whipped (no pun intended) the story into its final shape. Many, many thanks to all of them.

They had developed a ritual. If Diana wished to explore a particular desire but didn't want to speak it aloud, she would whisper it into his ear late at night. It was easier for her to whisper such things than to speak them, and it was far easier if she didn't have to look directly into his eyes as she did so.

On this particular night, they were curled up together in bed, and she whispered into Matthew's ear, working to keep her voice steady. "How long have you been thinking about this?" he asked softly. His words were calm, but his pupils were rapidly becoming wider, a sure indicator of desire.

"A while now," she admitted. "Is it too much to ask of you?" he said.

"Me? No," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "But it's a lot to ask from yourself."

She knew what she was asking. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. "You said no desire was wrong, if it didn't harm anyone."

"And I meant it," he said, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. "I trust you know what you want, and I don't mean to patronize you. But that kind of play can be tough, physically, emotionally. The intensity can reveal unexpected things about yourself and your relationship to your partner. You should be prepared for that."

"I still have my word, right? If I need to stop?"

He nodded, combing his fingers through her hair. "Always." He bent his head and spoke very quietly into her ear. His words made her skin flush with heat and desire curled low in her belly, yet at the same time, a shiver of apprehension slid down her spine.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "I trust you."

Pulling her closer, he kissed her on the top of her head, inhaling her scent as he did. He sighed and thought quietly for a long moment. "This won't do. I think we need a different sort of space," he said finally, glancing around their bedroom. "Let me make some inquiries. In the meantime, get some rest," he said, kissing her good night. He dimmed the light halfway and reached for his book.

He left the words unsaid, but she understood them anyway.

_Get some rest, you'll need it._

~*~

Matthew's inquiries led them to a swank condominium building in a fashionable neighborhood in the city a few nights later. "Where did you find this place?" she asked as he entered a code on the penthouse's electronic door lock.

"Friend of a friend," he said.

"Wow," she said as they entered

"This will...do," Matthew said, dropping the duffel bag he carried.

They stepped into an enormous, elegant living room, indirectly lit with soft light. Or it would have been a living room if it wasn't full of very specific...was furniture the right word? Equipment? Diana wasn't sure. A steel bondage frame with a variety of rings dangling from it, an X-shaped cross, a metal table and a padded one, something that looked like a vaulting horse, a bench, and other pieces she didn't immediately recognize. Nearly everything had various attachment points. Off to one side, she saw a low bed, also embedded with rings around the frame.

A doorway at one end of the large space probably led to a kitchen, while a hallway off the entry led to the rest of the apartment. There were drapes covering the entire back wall, and she peeked through them to see a rather spectacular city view.

While she was wandering around the living space, Matthew had found the kitchen, and he returned carrying two bottles of water. "Thirsty?" he asked. She nodded, taking one of the bottles from him.

"Let's look around," Matthew suggested. There were three large, elegantly decorated bedrooms, and the master had an enormous ensuite bathroom with a deep tub, a double vanity table, and a huge standalone shower. "Okay," she said. "I have bathroom envy."

They laughed together as they returned to the living room -- playroom, whatever. Matthew took her hand and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. "Are you ready for this, my love?" he asked. "You have your word. Do you want to talk about anything else? Any limits you want to set, beyond what we've talked about?"

She was ready, and she trusted him. "No," she said.

"Very well." He kissed her, long and slow and loving, his tongue teasing hers gently. Afterward, he quickly looked her up and down, but it was more clinical than sexual. "Anything I should know? If you pulled a muscle running, anything like that, now is the time to tell me."

She shook her head. "No, I feel good," she said, smiling at him.

"All right, then," he said. "Put your hair up, please." A shiver went through her, and he watched as she quickly twisted her loose ponytail and secured it above her neck. Her pulse picked up, and she took a few deep breaths.

"Strip for me, and kneel," Matthew said, his voice quiet but commanding, spoken in the tone that never failed to send a dark thrill down her spine.

Undressing quickly, she folded her clothes and set them aside, returning to kneel in front of him, her eyes down. At first he did nothing, although she could feel the icy prickle of his gaze. She drew another breath, trying to calm herself.

"You look so pretty, Diana, but your posture is appalling," he said, quietly displeased. "You can do better than that. Kneel properly, as you were taught."

She thought she was, and ran through it again in her mind. Head, back, thighs...she tried to adjust as she reviewed the steps, stilling herself when she thought she had it right.

"No," he said. "You should know this by now."

She had no idea what she was doing wrong. "I don't..." she started to say.

He slapped her across the face, and she instinctively pulled away, stunned. "Did I ask you to speak?" he said, his voice pitched low and dangerous. "You speak if I ask you a question. Otherwise, you ask for permission. Do you understand?" The slap hadn't been particularly hard, far more shocking than painful, but the low growl of his words, his _commands,_ sent a surge of adrenaline through her that left her heart racing. "I asked you a question. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," she said, her voice a bit shaky.

"Good. Now correct your posture," he said, his voice soft again. "You know this. You've done it a dozen times."

Taking a deep breath, she ran through it again. Head, eyes, shoulders...oh, hell. Her shoulders were too far forward, and she adjusted them.

"Well done, although it took you far too long," he said. "Stand up."

He didn't offer her a hand like he usually did. Standing, mindful of her posture, she kept her eyes down, very aware of his presence.

"I've been far too soft with you." His voice wasn't angry, but calm and matter-of-fact. Standing behind her, he traced a finger down her spine before speaking softly into her ear. "You think you understand submission, but you don't. At the least, you will learn obedience."

As another shudder went down her back, she heard him step away, returning to stand in front of her. He dropped two leather cuffs at her feet. "Buckle those around your ankles."

She crouched and buckled the cuffs on as quickly as she could. Once she was standing again, he said, "Wrists." He fastened them, then bent to check the cuffs she'd put on her ankles, tightening one of them.

Standing, he looked her up and down, circling her again, as if evaluating what he saw. "I wonder how much you can really take," Matthew said. Her heart pounding in her ears, she let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She wanted to take whatever he would give her, and his words sent a thrill right down to her sex.

He knew; of course he knew, there was no hiding anything from him, not when he could hear her heartbeat and smell the smallest of chemical changes in her body. Behind her now, his hand slid between her legs. A tease, nothing more, but her head dropped back anyway, brushing his collarbone. "How much do you want this?" he asked, leaving a line of kisses from her shoulders to her neck.

So much. So, so much. "Very much," she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat as she shivered underneath his touch. "Please." Her knees felt weak, and his arm slid around her, just beneath her breasts.

"Since you ask so politely," he said, taking her shoulder and maneuvering her toward the bondage frame. After tying a blindfold around her eyes, he attached her restraints to the frame. She wrapped her hands around the bar on each side.

She heard him step away, and the next sound she heard was a flogger as it snapped nearby. Her body responded to the sound without conscious thought, and she anticipated the eventual pleasure even while flinching from the sharp snap. The tails struck her ass lightly, and she knew it was the velvet flogger he'd used the first time they'd done this. It was mostly a warmup toy now, but Diana loved it, loved the way it felt against her skin, the way Matthew used it to get what he wanted from her, for her.

He was warming her up with the flogger, but that wasn't all he was doing. The flogger struck her ass or thighs a few times, but then she sensed him circling as he dragged the tails over her breasts, down her back, between her legs. He was arousing her even as he slowly increased the intensity of the blows, inexorably binding the pain to the pleasure. He drew his hand all the way down her spine, dropped a single kiss on the back of her neck, traced the outline of her lips with his finger. Then the flogger returned, the pain increasing steadily until she could feel the heat it left on her skin. She could sense Matthew's satisfaction through his touch, through his control of her, deciding whether she would feel pain or pleasure from moment to moment.

Pausing, he walked around her again, and this time the flogger he dragged down her back wasn't velvet, it was leather. She shuddered. "Can you take this for me?" he asked.

"Yes," she said softly, the need to please him growing increasingly urgent. "Please."

"I want to hear you, Diana," he said with quiet insistence, his fingers tracing a line down her cheek, over her lips. "You don't get to hold back your responses, not from me."

He stepped away again, and the lash started to come more rapidly, building in intensity. Obeying him, she stopped trying to hold back her gasps and cries. After each fall of the tails, she felt a fleeting moment of nothing, and then fiery pain ripped through her before it faded to a persistent ache.

That was always the moment when she felt the slight rush of relief, just before the flogger struck again. The tails fell quickly now, and before long, she was crying out with each blow until she was right at the edge of it becoming too much. His flogger struck again and again, the pain transformed into something else. It was nothing compared to the pleasure as the slight rush became a torrent of relief.

With each strike, the feeling grew, until the pain was just a blip on the radar. She soared above it, relaxed, and moaned with pleasure. Each fall of the tails sent her further and further to a place where she was floating in warm sensation, a place where she had no thoughts, no worries. Nothing mattered but the two of them and the steady fall of the tails.

He had never used the flogger on her like this before, with such demanding fervor, such power. She welcomed it, fucking loved it; he wasn't treating her like a fragile flower any longer. She thought she heard a low growl from him, and it excited her further.

She had no idea how long he let her enjoy it, but it wasn't long enough, it couldn't be, because who would ever want to stop feeling this way? But Matthew must have felt she'd had enough, because the flogger stopped, and his body pressed against hers. He ran his hands down her back, her very sore ass and thighs. "What a lovely shade of red that is on you," he said, squeezing her ass, eliciting another gasp.

Unclipping the restraints and pulling off the blindfold, he said, "I love seeing you come apart under my hand, Diana," he said. Free of the restraints, she nearly staggered backwards, but he caught her, lifting her into his arms. Carrying her to the long, padded table, he set her down on her back. She winced from the pressure against her sore ass and thighs.

He quickly clipped her cuffs to the four corners of the table. Matthew frequently bound her hands together before tying the scarf or soft rope to the bed, which left her with some freedom of movement. He'd never restrained her like this, with both hands and legs tightly bound, unable to move more than an inch or two. The sensation of helplessness only increased when he tied the blindfold back around her eyes; at the same time, she couldn't deny that being so completely under his control left her even more aroused. She took a deep breath to try to calm herself, but the endorphin rush from the flogging, the pain against her ass and thighs, and the restraints, combined to keep her from focusing on anything, even her breathing.

Matthew could move utterly silently when he wanted to, and she had no idea where he was or what he was doing until she felt the cool prickling of a vampire's gaze. He drew his hands across her body, teasing her breasts, brushing between her legs, and she shivered with pleasure. He moved his hands to her thighs, roughly massaging her skin.

A moment after he stopped, something came down sharply against the soft flesh of her thigh. "Ohhh," she gasped. Christ, but that hurt; Matthew was not fucking around. It was a slapping toy, and when he dragged it against her skin, she knew it was a crop. He brought it down again once more before switching to the other thigh. It was painful, but also arousing, and it became more so as he fluttered his fingertips over the skin where the crop had struck.

"You love this, don't you. Love being bound, love the pain, love whatever I give you." His mouth brushed her lips. His voice was softly cruel, thick with the dark promise of more to come, and it unsettled her even as it excited her.

"Yes," she said honestly, her voice a throaty whisper. "Yes, I love it."

His hand went between her thighs, and she shuddered. Oh, but she wanted him to touch her, wanted it so badly she could taste it. But his fingers quickly disappeared, and instead she felt something cold against her clit. When it started to buzz, the sensation was so intense she instinctively tried to move, to escape it.

"I knew you'd like this," he said. Oh, God, was he fucking kidding? It was a special form of torture. She couldn't twist away, and she did not want to find out how he would punish her if she came without permission.

Trying again to calm herself, her breath hitched in her throat. Sliding the small vibrator up and down, he pressed it against her firmly before pulling it back. On and on, until she was sure she was about to come. And then it stopped, and the vibrator disappeared. She was grateful and miserable in the same moment, torn between her desire to come and to stop herself from breaking the rules. Shuddering, she wondered what else he had planned for her.

It didn't take long to find out. He pinched the skin on the top of her left breast, hard, before attaching a clamp of some kind to it. It was exquisitely painful, then the pain faded and she could breathe her way through it. Then he did it again, just underneath the first clamp, and then another. Before attaching the next clamp, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, and the pleasure rippled through her, a sharp contrast to the pain. Stopping, he twisted the nipple in his fingers for a few moments before he closed the clamp around it, and she cried out.

He tsked at her. "Oh, surely it's not that bad," he said, flicking his fingers against the clamp.

Uncertain if she should respond and not sure she was able to, she said nothing, simply trying to breathe as he attached another clamp, then another, each clamp connected to the one before it, until there was a line of them from the top of her breast to the bottom. Then he started on the other side. The sharp pain of each clamp eventually faded to a dull ache, but then another followed on the last. There were tears sliding down her face before he was done.

She had only a moment to breathe before the buzzing of the vibrator began again, and the low ache of desire added itself to the throbbing of the clamps. Every breath she drew jostled the clamps, and Matthew didn't help, pulling on each set of clamps. As she tried to hold back an orgasm, the vibrator stopped, and she felt the painful whack of the crop against her thighs again, then the pull on the clamps, then the vibrator. A rush of one sensation over the other, pain and painful pleasure and aching need on top of each other, with no time for her to breathe, to think. She could only feel and react.

The vibrator pulsed against her again, and her need was growing increasingly insistent. "Oh, please, mercy," she gasped without thinking, her body's demands overwhelming everything but her need not to come without his permission.

"No," he said sharply, pressing the vibrator more firmly against her. She writhed, frustrated; she was so close, he was relentless, and she didn't know how to prevent herself from the orgasm she wasn't allowed to have.

Only barely able to distinguish pain from pleasure, she spoke again, forgetting his order to ask for permission first. "Please, please, I need...please, no more, oh please, let me come..." she begged.

The vibrator stopped. "Did I give you permission to beg?" he said, his voice stern with reproach. "And why would you expect me to be interested in what _you_ think you need? I decide what you need. You will beg if I wish to hear you beg, and if it pleases me to see you come, I might permit it. Or perhaps I won't, and I will enjoy watching you twist and writhe in those restraints." His mouth was very close to her ear, and he spoke softly. "You forget you are here to serve my desires, not your own."

Isn't this what she had asked for, what she had whispered in his ear? For Matthew to demand more from her, to be strict and uncompromising? For more pain, more restrictive bonds, to push her further? She'd asked because she wanted this, wanted it with him. His unyielding demands unnerved her, but at the same time, every whisper of his voice and each touch of his hands sent heat and unbridled want rushing through her body.

She drew a shallow breath, thoroughly chastened by his words. "I'm sorry," she gasped against the pain of the crop as it struck the soft flesh of her inner thighs again. Jesus Christ, that thing fucking hurt.

"I accept your apology," he replied. "You might want to take a deep breath."

She barely had time to register his words before he pulled on the clamp at the top of her left breast, and ripped the line of them off in one swift motion. Without pause, the other half followed. There was a moment of nothing at all, and then searing, agonizing pain. A scream tore through her, and she tried but failed to twist away, to do anything to lessen the pain, but it soon peaked, and endorphins rushed through her. She gasped, sighing.

But she had only a moment to enjoy the relief. Just as the pain started to subside, he turned the vibrator back on, holding it firmly against her, and she almost sobbed as she felt her orgasm building again, helpless to stop it. She clenched her hands, and her head dropped back, waiting for the inevitable, every nerve ending in her chest still raw from the clamps. At the very last moment, just as she felt herself start to tip into orgasm, he withdrew the vibrator, and she cried out in frustration. In her lower belly, her sex, she felt a twisting ache, but she was utterly relieved she hadn't broken the rules.

On the night she'd asked him for this, he had whispered into her ear, "You will scream, Diana. You will beg me to stop. You will ask for mercy and I'll say no." She had already done all three, and he wasn't finished with her yet.

"Just as your pain comes from me, so does your pleasure, and you'll have each when I want you to have them," he said softly. "You’re a good girl," he said, kissing her on the forehead. A burst of warmth suffused her, his affection and mild praise more satisfying than an orgasm would have been in that moment. He kissed her again, softly, on the lips this time, and she sighed happily.

He removed the blindfold, and she blinked as Matthew unclipped the cuffs from the table. "Sit up slowly," he said. He let her sit a moment, his hand on her back as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, and as her body adjusted after being prone and restrained. "Are you lightheaded or dizzy?" he asked. She shook her head, and he lifted her down to the floor.

"Kneel. Keep those thighs well apart. And let's hope we don't need to revisit your posture once again."

Keeping her eyes down, she obeyed, settling onto her knees, and very careful of her posture. She tried to draw a deep breath, but he was standing very close to her, and she was keenly aware of his presence. Her ass and thighs were sore against her calves as she sat back on them, and every nerve ending was still singing from her unrelieved arousal.

"Undress me," he said.

With a nod, she started with his shoes, needing only to bend forward to remove them, along with his socks. Standing, she unbuttoned his shirt, starting with the cuffs. As much as she was tempted to touch his chest, his shoulders, she did only what she'd been ordered to do. After she slid his trousers off, she clenched her hands for a moment before pushing his briefs down and off. He was already hard, and she wanted to touch him, taste him, but what she wanted didn't matter.

"Fold my clothes neatly, and go set them beside the wall." She obeyed, quickly but tidily folding his things and taking them over to the corner he'd indicated. She had started to return when he said, "Your legs look tired. Come back to me on your hands and knees."

Without thinking, she obeyed, kneeling before bending forward onto all fours. "Look at me, Diana," Matthew said, and she lifted her eyes to see him tracking her every movement. She could sense his pleasure, his rich satisfaction in watching her crawl to him, for him, and it sent a surge of heat through her. His pupils widened, and he seemed every bit the predator, a dark smile on his face. If he thought this was difficult for her, too humiliating, he was wrong. She craved his approval so deeply in her bones that she would have done anything to please him; she would have crawled across the floor if it was covered in broken glass.

When she was in front of him, she sat back, careful to mind her posture, and lowered her eyes once more.

"Stand up," he said. Obeying quickly, she dropped her eyes again. "You're a good girl, aren't you? You want to please me." His hand slipped between her legs again, and he sighed with approval at her arousal. "Pleasure me, Diana. With your mouth only," he said softly.

Oh, yes, please. Without thinking, without considering, she leaned forward, kissing across the hollow of his throat, alternating between light tender kisses and gentle licks. In bare feet, without him bending to meet her, she couldn't reach his mouth, so she slid her lips from his throat to his chest. As she kissed her way downward, her lips grew more insistent, his scent enveloping her as she kissed and licked her way from his chest to his stomach, feeling the flutter of muscle underneath and a low hiss of response from him. Sinking to her knees, putting her hands behind her back to remind herself not to use them, she inhaled deeply, licking across his shaft before taking him into her mouth.

She had done this many times, of course, although not without the use of her hands, and not on her knees. But she knew what pleased him, and she took full advantage, using her lips and tongue, letting him slip out of her mouth to rub against her cheek before sucking him down again, alternating sensations. It was more difficult without her hands, but she managed, and was gratified when he gasped suddenly, a rough sound of pleasure that sent a spike of heat through her.

"Stop," he said, his breath hitching in his throat. Diana obeyed, letting him slip from her mouth. "Stand up." She was a bit disappointed that he hadn't finished in her mouth, that she hadn't been able to feel or taste him as he came, but she did as instructed.

He wrapped his hand around her neck, leaning forward until his forehead touched hers. "You've pleased me, Diana, very much. But I have something else in mind. Go to the bed, and lie down in the middle."

As she lay down, she barely noticed as the sheets rubbed against her raw ass and legs. Unsuccessfully, she tried again to catch her breath, to force her thoughts into something resembling coherence. Matthew was there after a few moments, quickly buckling cuffs to her thighs and attaching the thigh cuffs to her ankles. He restrained her to the bed with bent knees, her thighs spread wide and her arms straight out to her sides. She tried not to pull against them, to resist, but she couldn't stop herself. The cuffs were unforgiving, and she was as fully restrained as she'd ever been, and even more exposed than she had been on the table.

"Stop struggling," he said mildly, and Diana sensed he didn't mean physically. "Stop struggling, and give it over."

Before she could think about what he meant, his fingers brushed between her legs. "I do like you like this, Diana. Needy. Wet and ready for me." He bent his head and licked her once, pushing his tongue inside her, bringing her back to the brink of orgasm with unbelievable speed. He licked her thighs, her hip. "Your skin tastes like honey that's been sitting in the sun all day." He bent his head again, and her toes curled, every muscle quivering with need.

"What do you want?" he said, lifting his head for a moment before pushing his tongue deep inside her once more.

 _Stop struggling._ "Nothing," she gasped, answering without thought, her hands opening and closing helplessly in her restraints. _Give it over._ "Only what you want. To please you."

He slid back and entered her part of the way, and the feel of it was almost unbearable, so close to what her body cried out for, still just out of reach. But what she wanted didn't matter, not anymore, nothing mattered except obedience and pleasing him.

"Why do you want to please me?" he asked, holding himself still, moving her chin so their eyes met.

"Because," she cried out, as she let go of something, some measure of resistance she'd been holding onto all of these months. "I'm yours. I belong to you." Her wants, her needs, her desires; she gave them all to him. Tension she'd been holding onto bled away, disappearing like fog in the sunshine, and she relaxed into her restraints for the first time.

"Never forget it. Your pain," he said, nipping at a mark on her breast, smiling as she flinched, "your pleasure." Moving further inside her, he bent his body over hers, and she gasped. "All of it is _mine._ " He whispered, "It would please me to hear you beg now."

He had told her before they'd ever started down this path that she would beg, and she had begged before, but nothing like this. A babble of words tumbled out of her, words like "please" and "may I" and other entreaties that spilled out of her incoherently. All that mattered was the submission behind them, the sublimation of her desires to his, her utter and complete surrender.

"You beg so prettily," he said, pressing deep into her. "You may come when I do, not before."

She shuddered as he pulled back and thrust into her again and again, struggling as each sensation brought her closer to the edge. He kissed her, his tongue pressing against her lips, and she opened to him, his mouth demanding against hers. Matthew's hands never stopped moving, caressing a nipple before pinching it hard, running his hands over her sore ass, and all the while, his cock kept up a relentless rhythm that left her gasping for breath.

Yielding to the sense of helplessness that came with being so thoroughly restrained, she found the bonds were a kind of freedom, leaving her completely open to his desires. Hers didn't matter anymore, and the need to come _right now_ receded as she focused only on him, on giving him what he wanted, what he demanded. She angled her hips to meet his, tilted her head when he kissed her chin or collarbone, opened her mouth to his insistent, demanding kisses.

Every touch, every kiss sent a new rush of sensation through her, the physical bliss becoming one and the same with the pleasure of giving herself to him so completely, her gasps and cries caught by his mouth on hers. He thrust once more, and again, his lips buried against her neck as he pulsed inside her with a groan of pleasure. Without a thought, she came with a strangled cry, her orgasm tearing through her as she strained against the cuffs, clenching around him.

Still inside her, he slid a hand between them, pressing against her clit as he moved his fingers just so. "Again, come again, right now," he demanded, and she did, release flowing through her in waves. She shuddered, utterly spent, yet still soaring from the endorphins, the release after prolonged denial, the feel of his body against hers.

Her eyes closed, and she distantly heard the soft clicks of restraints being released, felt Matthew's hands as he unbuckled the cuffs and dropped them aside. "Oh, Diana, you're shaking." He wrapped a blanket around her tightly, and she felt another drop over them both. His arms were around her, and she heard his tone as he spoke, kind and reassuring, although she didn't quite register his words.

When she came back to herself, she was curled on her side, and he was watching her, combing her hair away from her face with his fingers. She shifted a bit, ignoring the pain that was beginning to assert itself, and drew his head down to hers, kissing him softly.

"Welcome back," he said, his relief apparent in his expression. "How do you feel?"

Her voice felt raspy and dry. "Sore and tired, but very...happy," she said, the word entirely inadequate. She smiled at him. "Couldn't you tell?"

Without much success, he tried to smother a grin. "My love, you had so many endorphins, enkephalins, and pleasure hormones coursing through you, your scent was like walking past an 18th century brothel on the day the ships came into port," he said. "A very high-end one, of course," he added with a hint of a smirk. She laughed, burying her face against his neck, and he chuckled, kissing her on the forehead.

"I know you're tired," he said, his voice becoming serious again, "but the shaking bothers me." He had told her about this, how a sudden drop in endorphins after an intense experience could cause unpleasant reactions. "Can you sit up, just a bit?" He helped her lift herself onto her elbow, and he handed her a glass of orange juice and a couple of paracetamol capsules. "Drink," he said. "The sugar will help. I want to get you into a hot bath, then you can sleep."

She nodded, swallowing the pills and sipping the juice as he slipped from the bed. She was tired, but she was definitely going to hurt tomorrow, so the bath sounded like a very good idea. So was the mild painkiller. While Diana liked feeling the pain the next day, a reminder of their time together, she'd learned that she didn't need to feel _all_ of it to be reminded.

When he returned, he lifted her gently into his arms and carried her into the bathroom, pulling off the blanket just before he stepped down into the deep, recessed tub. She sighed as the hot water rushed over her. It stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to how good the water felt against her tired muscles. Matthew held her until she settled down on her feet, bending her knees so the water covered her up to her neck. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, watching her through lowered lashes.

Diana smiled and moved toward him, and his arms turned her around and drew her back against his chest. Sitting on the concrete bench might not be appealing, but his lap felt just fine. She leaned back, dropping her head onto his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her. She heard him inhale as he bent to kiss her head.

"Do I still smell like a whorehouse?" she asked, unable to stop the horrible giggle that escaped her.

He laughed. "No, you smell like you, just a...a well-satisfied version of you."

"If we can do it, I think you can say it," she said, almost daring him. He rarely swore in front of her.

He leaned very close to her ear, his voice pitched low and intimate, carrying just a hint of the tone of command that undid her so easily. "You smell like you've been properly fucked, Diana."

A shudder went through her, her knees suddenly weak, and she felt his smile against her neck. She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him hard, then tenderly, her hands skimming his body. She licked into his mouth, tasting him, and he let her take what she wanted, what she needed. Matthew was aware of how important this was to her, the moment when she reasserted her power, the moment when she stopped being his submissive and became his equal again.

If Diana wasn't so tired, she wouldn't have stopped with a kiss, but languor had settled over her, and with a final soft touch of her lips against his, she turned in his arms again. She allowed her legs to float free in the water, his arms anchoring her, keeping her safe as they always did. No matter what had passed between them tonight, she had never for a moment felt unsafe with him.

Before they got out of the bath, he helped her wash her hair. Whatever shampoo he had brought smelled delicious, and she breathed in the aromatics as he massaged it into her scalp, moving her gently to the tap to rinse it clean with fresh warm water. She felt so drowsy; she was only half aware as he helped her out of the bath, wrapping an enormous bath sheet around her. He sat her at the vanity table, toweling her hair dry, combing through tangles with his fingers. It would look a fright in the morning, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Hand in hand, they went into the master bedroom, and she shrugged into a camisole and yoga pants before falling into bed. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the gentle brush of his lips against her forehead.

~*~

When she awoke, sunlight was streaming through the bedroom's gauzy curtains. As she'd expected, she was sore and achy, but not enough to be a real bother. She would stretch later, and that would help.

Matthew wasn't there, but she could smell food, and her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. She visited the envy-worthy bathroom again, finding that Matthew had left the small bag with her things on the wooden bench opposite the tub. She slipped a sweater and socks over the clothes she'd worn to bed, and after pulling her very messy hair into a ponytail, she went to find him.

He was in the large, bright kitchen, and he had definitely been awake for a while, if he'd slept at all; he'd been shopping, too, by the looks of it. The huge granite breakfast bar was covered with herbs, produce, and fruit, and a pink bakery box sat next to a carton of eggs. A frying pan on the stove behind him was apparently the source of the appetizing scents.

"Good morning," she said. Two places had been set at the breakfast bar, and she sat at one of them on a tall, high-backed stool.

He leaned across to kiss her, tasting like coffee. "Good morning, _mon coeur,_ " he said. "How are you feeling?"

"A little tired," she admitted, "But otherwise fine."

He expertly cracked several eggs over a bowl, beating them with a whisk. Looking up, he smiled at her. "I'm glad." The kettle whistled, and he poured water into a teapot before setting the pot, milk and sugar in front of her. Opening the pink box, he dropped a croissant onto a small plate, setting it next to the teapot.

She opened the teapot and smelled her favorite English breakfast tea steeping. Smiling at Matthew's characteristic attention to detail, she took a bite of the croissant -- fresh, still warm, and filled with chocolate that had melted to just the right point. "These are so good," she said. He grinned at her before turning back to the stove. "Look at you, with all this cooking."

"I have picked up a few things over the years," he said over his shoulder. "Even I can manage a simple breakfast."

It didn't seem all that simple to her, but in short order, he slid a perfectly folded omelet onto another plate, setting it before her. She couldn't tell what was inside, but it smelled fantastic, and the outside of the omelet was dotted with green herbs. He watched her as she took a bite. "God, is that fresh crab?"

He smiled, reaching across the island to pour her tea into a mug. "I was at the fish market when it opened."

"Matthew, this is delicious." Was there anything he didn't do well? In addition to the crab, she tasted avocado, green onion, parsley and...dill, perhaps? She was even more hungry than she'd thought, and she began to eat with enthusiasm. "Thank you."

He looked up with a smile, apparently delighted that she appreciated his efforts. Adding some blueberries and raspberries to her plate, he poured her a glass of orange juice. Moving around the breakfast bar with his cup of coffee, he kissed her on the forehead before sitting in the stool next to hers. "You're most welcome."

He reached over the counter and moved the bowl of berries between them, adding some cracked walnuts to it. Nibbling at it, he watched her while she ate. "What?" she smiled, finishing the omelet and spearing a few berries with her fork. She drank some of the juice, too, knowing it would make him happy.

"I'm glad you're well, but when I asked about how you were feeling, I didn't only mean physically." He wasn't reproaching her; he was concerned about how she was reacting in the light of day to what she'd experienced last night.

"It was intense," she admitted. "There were times when my brain felt incredibly muddled."

"Mixing pain and pleasure can do that," he said. "It confuses your brain's pain receptors." He glanced her up and down quickly, as if trying to hide that he was doing so. "Everything feel all right this morning?"

"Yes, it stopped before we went to bed." But there was something far more important that she needed to tell him. "Something changed," she said.

"I know," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers. "I felt it. I wanted to see if you did, too."

"You said that I didn't understand submission, and I think you were right. But something broke through, something I'd been holding back. I felt like I was truly submitting for the first time, like I'd been...failing at it before, whispering what I wanted in your ear," she said.

"You weren't failing. Nobody starts with complete submission; it's something that happens over time." He took her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb. "And I enjoy what we've been doing, and I don't want you to stop. It pleases me to have you whisper your most secret desires to me," he said with a slow grin, leaning closer, whispering in her ear in turn, a playful smirk on his lips. "The filthier the better."

She blushed, amazed that she still could after last night. Settling back on his stool, his eyes grew serious again. "You were beautiful last night, Diana, in every moment. Your honesty and your trust undo me. I love you so much," he said, his voice catching in his throat. He entwined her fingers with his.

"I love you too," she whispered. "When I said I belonged to you, I meant it, and I _felt_ it. I want to feel it over and over again." His expression made her feel weak in the knees, desire starting to slowly uncoil itself inside her again. He leaned over and kissed her, tender and sweet, with just a hint of demand.

Breaking the kiss, he drew his hand across her cheek in a soft caress. "There's no right way or wrong way to do this, you know, as long as we're talking and not hurting each other," he said softly, and she raised an eyebrow. "Except for the kind of hurt you enjoy," he amended, his eyes growing bright with mischief.

She laughed, sliding her arms around him. "Everything last night, every time you touched me. It was... I'm not sure I have the words," she said, her voice low with pleasure.

Kissing her forehead, he said, "That pleases me, too. More than I can put into words." Taking her hand, he turned it over. Slowly, tenderly, he bent his head and kissed her wrist, a reminder of the first time they had touched at Oxford. Her heart skipped a beat.

He noticed, of course he noticed, and he looked at her steadily, still holding her hand. _Mine._ He didn't say it, but she felt it anyway, and it sent a rush of heat through her. "What time do we have to leave?" she asked.

"We have all day," he said, pushing her sweater down and off, letting it drop to the floor, kissing his way slowly up her arm from her wrist.

"Bed, or tub?" she asked.

He pretended to consider his choices. "Both," he said, sweeping her into his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> That is a wrap on this series for Matthew and Diana! I hope you enjoyed it, and feedback of any kind is welcome.
> 
> There is one more story that's related to, but not part of, this series: the long-promised story of the last time Matthew was a submissive, mentioned at the end of [**Trust**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329650). You can find it here: [Force of Nature](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808598).


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